


A Sunday in Springtime

by JemTheKingOfSass



Category: Free!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff Friday/Smut Saturday, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-30 21:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14505693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JemTheKingOfSass/pseuds/JemTheKingOfSass
Summary: On Sundays, Rin and Haru don't have practice. This particular Sunday they start out cleaning, but end up getting dirty.





	1. Sunday Chores

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainScience](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainScience/gifts).



> Lala, I thought of you while writing this because it starts as domestic RH for Friday and transitions into shameless mentions of Rin’s ass and thighs for Saturday. (#^.^#)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just an ordinary Sunday morning that Rin and Haru spend cleaning their flat.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's funny about this challenge is that I don't tend to write fluffy fluff or sexy smut so *sweats* enjoy!
> 
> Here's the fluff. In theory.
> 
>  

 

**

 

“Hey Haru, are you nearby?”

 

Haru pops his head around the wall of the kitchen. “It’s a 2LDK, I can’t be too far.”

 

Rin holds up a fistful of damp cloth from the top of the step stool. “Tch. Can you get me a clean rag? I thought I could do this window with just these but they’re all sopping wet and reek of ammonia.”

 

“I think you use too much window cleaner.” He knows for a fact Rin uses too much window cleaner, as well as too many antibacterial wipes, toilet bowl cleanser, and wood polish, because he’s the one constantly replacing all the cleaning products that Rin uses in abundance. Having an obsessive need for a bleached and tidy home hits the pocketbook harder than Haru would have ever imagined before moving in.

 

“No such thing. No matter what I do up here, there are smudges. It’s driving me crazy.” Not for the first nor last time, Haru ponders the list of things that Rin claim drive him crazy. Perhaps subtle perpetual insanity is simply Rin’s state of mind.

 

With a fond, tinged with only mild annoyance, gaze, Haru moves to the window and takes all the soaked rags from Rin to put in the laundry basket. After depositing the soiled armful, he locates a dry cloth from the rag bag, which he tosses up to his boyfriend of too many years to not be anything else by this point. If anyone ever asks him why they aren’t married yet, anyone being Makoto and Aki, the wonder couple who reunited at university years ago and have been inseparable since, he explains he is waiting for Rin to propose. What he doesn’t go on to say is that he is fairly certain that popping the question would be akin to pulling the romantic rug out from under his partner, who at this point must be deciding between numerous elaborate scenarios in which to ask for Haru’s hand. He’s thought about it, he knows exactly how he would do it if it was up to him, but this is Rin’s purview and Rin’s moment, and Haru is not going to steal it. 

 

It wouldn’t be under a sakura tree and it wouldn’t be in the pool, although both certainly fit the bill of on-the-nose romantic spots if someone was documenting their journey to get to this point in their lives. He’d briefly entertained the notion of surprising Rin this time with a last-minute trip to a different continent, although he would not return to Australia and Bondi Beach; it would be someplace completely new that neither had ever been, a list of countries growing shorter the longer their swimming careers last. No, Haru has the ideal location for a proposal, where the water would help him give voice to the request of an official bond and fill in the gaps between Haru’s words. He would take Rin down to the beach at sunrise, because that’s the beginning of the entire day, and what else is asking for someone’s hand in marriage than the start of something bigger than two people? Rin had told Haru once that when he was in middle school he would stand by the ocean and think about his friends back home on the other side of the same body of water, keeping them close, connecting everyone to him. Haru wants the water to link him to Rin always; after the sun sets on a long and fulfilling life together, he won’t mind if they both get tossed into the sea to spend their years eternally floating as a united pair of lovers under the surface. He’s not sure if Rin would find that notion romantic or macabre.

 

Haru returns to mopping the floor, watching the slightly soapy water glide across the smooth surface, grime removed and a sheen of moisture taking its place. Rin’s mother had been doing the exact same thing when he snuck away from Rin the last time they had been home in Iwatobi. Miyako answered the door, invited Haru in, and apologized profusely for being in the middle of cleaning, at which point Haru convinced her to sit down so he could finish the task. When the Matsuoka kitchen floor was sparkling, they both sat down with tea and nerves. Well, Haru was nervous, Miyako seemed amused.

_“Okaasan, I want to ask you a question.”_

_“What is it, Haruka-kun?”_

_“Please, just Haru is fine, okaasan.”_

_“Alright Haru. So what’s the question that brings you here without my son or daughter?”_

_“I’d like to ask it of Rin’s father as well.”_

_“Would you like to ask us at the same time?”_

_They abandoned their tea and Miyako led Haru out of the house and up the hill to the Matsuoka gravestone, where they both bowed their heads. Miyako waited for Haru to speak, Haru waited for the words to come to him._

_“I’ve asked you both in the past if you would accept me in Rin’s life, even though we’re not a traditional couple. I want to be traditional for this. Okaasama, otousama, I humbly request your blessing so that I may ask for your son’s hand in marriage.”_

_Miyako placed her hand on the gravestone, before she turned to Haru and clasped his folded hands._

_“I lost my husband, and to be honest, I thought I'd lost my son at some point too. You helped bring him back, you brought him back to life. He’s happy, he’s calm, he’s moving forward, and I know he’s loved. Nanase Haruka, it would be an honor to welcome you as officially as possible into this family. Unofficially you’re already a part of it. I care about you and I care about Rin, and I hope you’re ready to have another mother who worries about you and loves you, because I’m ready to embrace another son.” Miyako wept while she smiled with her entire face, and Haru saw both her children reflected in her tears._

 

If he’s being completely truthful to himself, Haru wants more than to be engaged, he wants to be married. To Rin. That’s why he went to the Matsuoka homestead in the first place; he’s ready, they are ready. He doesn’t want to steal Rin’s thunder, never wants to dull Rin’s shine, he did that unintentionally once and it shattered both of them for years. However, he is growing increasingly impatient with the romantic redhead who may never be satisfied in his search for the idyllic scenario. Haru thanks the star he was born under that he is not a perfectionist and takes life as it comes. He needs to stop thinking of a proposal as Rin’s decision, he doubts Rin truly feels that possessive over it, and instead as a choice they are going to make together, since that is how they have approached all important decisions since they became a _them_. Even though he’s spent time thinking of engagement plans, he is sure the right moment will arise when neither of them is expecting it. If spontaneous challenges have fueled their past, it’s only fitting an impromptu proposal fuels their future.

 

Long, warm arms wrap around Haru’s waist from behind, and a sharp chin rests on his right shoulder. A mouth moves very close to his ear to press a soft kiss on his neck. “Why are you standing in the middle of the floor staring at a bucket of dirty water?”

 

“Are we done cleaning yet?” Haru hopes he doesn’t sound too hopeful or whiny, like a child trying to get out of making his bed before school. He stops caring when Rin breaths a laugh into his skin and holds on tighter. Haru hugs himself, sliding his hands along Rin's forearms in search of the hands that embrace him; he weaves their fingers together at his sides, before turning his head to catch Rin's lips with his. Kissing Rin is the top of the priority list, certainly ahead of whatever mundane household tasks still need to be tackled. Haru frowns when Rin pulls away.

 

“I need to do the bathroom and then we’re done. Think you can handle the other half of the floor or has that water personally offended you? Stop glaring at it, keep mopping.” Rin gives a final firm squeeze and plants a quick kiss to Haru’s shoulder, before he takes his heat with him to finish his share of their Sunday chores. Haru idly wonders when the next meet is so he can spend the supposed day of rest swimming instead of slaving away in their flat. 

 

Haru hears Rin’s phone ping with the unmistakable Jaws riff, indicating it’s a text from his best friend. He picks up the cell and brings it into the bathroom, where the redhead is lost behind the toilet bowl scrubbing at stubborn grout, tinged with far too many middle-of-the-night inaccuracies. Haru lays the phone gently down on the counter and turns to revisit the tedium awaiting him in their kitchen. “Your phone’s on the sink. It’s Sousuke.”

 

Rin maneuvers his head around the back of the pedestal, which seems like a risky move, although it’s probably already been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. “Can you check it for me? If it’s important I’ll respond now, but it’s probably something dumb, so I’ll get into it with him when I’m done making this bathroom my bitch.”

 

“This bathroom is thoroughly domesticated at this point with the way you attack it every week,” replies Haru, wondering yet again how Rin can possibly get this much satisfaction from the drudgery of merely maintaining a respectable standard of living. He swipes over the screen to awaken the phone, enters Rin’s six digit password since Rin’s thumb print is hidden under a rubber glove, and pulls down the notification menu. 

 

“I bet I can get you off your knees, Rin.” This comment earns Haru a side eye and a scoff. 

 

“What does he want?”

 

“Exactly. Here.” Haru bends down to hold the phone out for Rin to read the screen himself. Rin squints and scans the text, then glances up at Haru, eyebrow cocked in amusement and a smirk on his pretty face.

 

“Well well. Sousuke’s finally cashing in on our childhood bet.”

 

**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that fluff? Was that anything? On to the ~~thickly veiled, blink and you'll miss it, abstract, not deserving of an M rating~~ smut! The epic conclusion will be posted tomorrow.


	2. Sunday Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin shows Haru a sight he’s never seen before. Haru does the same for Rin.

 

**

 

 **Ssk:** I finally know what I want. 

**Rin:** HA! About damn time (｡  >艸<)

 **Ssk:** Meet me at that coffee shop you like by TTISC.

 **Ssk:** This is not a phone conversation.

 **Rin:** Can you get there on your own?

 **Ssk:** I’m already here. 

**Rin:** I’m impressed! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

 **Ssk:** I was trying to get to your place and ended up here.

 **Ssk:** I stopped moving so you can find me.

 **Rin:** (*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ))

 **Rin:** Shower and Haru?

 **Ssk:** No time for that and best if it’s just you.

 

Rin throws on a clean black v-neck and shimmies into skinny jeans that are far too snug, before grabbing his keys and phone and racing out the door. This decision has been years in the making and hell if he’s going to waste one more minute before hearing what it is. 

 

“We’re done cleaning now, right?” Haru confirms, already heading to the bathroom for a long soak. 

 

“As long as you aren’t diving into the dirty floor water, we’re all good. It looked like you were considering it there for a moment,” laughs Rin, having pulled on his shoes and now reaching for his black hoodie hanging on the hook in the entry. “See you later!”

 

Haru nods as he walks towards the bathroom and calls his parting words over his shoulder. “Say hi to Sousuke for me.”

 

Rin is beyond pleased that the two most important people in his life, sans his mother and sister because they leveled up without even playing the game, have reached a place of acceptance and friendship. It makes him want to whistle a jaunty tune and skip to the train station, but he controls himself, and opts instead to jam his earbuds in and crank up the playlist his best friend got him hooked on.

 

Rin walks up to Blue Bottle Coffee, a cafe that a teammate who had spent his adolescence training in California bragged endlessly about, and which turned out to be every bit as good as the hype. He readies himself for anything. Sousuke never misses an opportunity to rib Rin and get him riled up, usually in good fun, but sometimes leaving very ruffled feathers that Haru is exceptionally good at smoothing back down. The fact that this is a joke years in the making, and at Rin’s expense, unsettles him. But he trusts Sousuke with his life, and that is the force allowing him to push open the door and set foot inside this glimpse of hipster Americana that has found its way to Kōtō ward. 

 

“What’s up, Sousuke?” Rin greets his friend and bumps the immediately proffered fist. 

 

Sousuke smirks and nods towards the seat across from his at the tiny table. “Sit, Rin. I’ll go get you a coffee.” Rin lifts his eyebrow in concern, Sousuke is always generous, but to not even allow Rin to offer to pay his own way tells him this demand is going to be something that he won’t like. 

 

The hulking brunet returns with a matcha latte for himself and a black press coffee for Rin, which he gratefully accepts, the hot drink perfect for settling his slowly building anticipation.

 

“Hit me with it, Sousuke. I’ve been waiting for more than a decade, don’t make me wait any longer,” states Rin, not letting another second go by before he knows what dreadful thing has been thought up by the mastermind across the table.

 

“So here it is.” Sousuke steeples his fingers and leans in towards Rin. “You like your body, you always have. You’re dead sexy. Agreed so far?”

 

Rin feels his face flush, but knows there’s no hidden context or untruth, his best friend is unfailingly honest since they discovered some time ago that hiding things from each other was the worst thing they could do for their relationship. However, he is not expecting Sousuke to talk openly about his sex appeal in broad daylight at a crowded cafe without his boyfriend present. “Uhhh, I-I, yeah, I think I look fine. I mean, Haru has no complaints.” He feels compelled to bring Haru into the conversation. 

 

Sousuke barks out a laugh. “Relax, Rin. I’m not trying to get in your pants. I’m just setting the stage here and stating a fact. Can I continue?”

 

Rin takes a sip of too-hot coffee, the slight burn on his tongue mimicking the heat he still feels in his face. He takes a deep breath, this conversation so far doing little to reassure him. “Yeah.”

 

“If you had to pick your best physical asset, what would you say it is?” The smirk is back full-tilt and Rin gulps.

 

He rubs a hand across his forehead and glances over at the two large cold-brew filters dripping newly brewed coffee agonizingly slowly into the awaiting carafes. Rin doesn’t like being put on the spot; however he definitely does appreciate his body, not only for the power it can generate in the water and the ability it has to earn his livelihood, but also for its aesthetic appeal. “Well. I’d say it has to be my legs or my ass. Probably both, I mean, I work really hard on them.”

 

“I agree, Rin,” nods Sousuke, eyes glinting, teeth bared. Rin feels like a rabbit, or a deer, or some other useless jittery prey animal caught in the stare of a ruthless hunter ready to strike him down. Fight or flight is kicking in, but he knows he’ll lose at both those options, so he chooses what the bunny would choose and he freezes. 

 

The predator reaches under the table and pulls out a shoe box to dramatically place on the table. Sousuke leans forward, Rin instinctively rears back, though curiosity is getting the better of him at this point. “What’s in there?”

 

Sousuke lifts the lid with no more fanfare. “You need to wear these out on a date with Nanase.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes. A bet’s a bet.”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“You can’t back out, Rin.” Sousuke leans back and folds his arms across his expansive chest. “Well, I guess you can, but you’d taint our entire friendship history with shame.” He looks way too smug for Rin’s taste. 

 

Rin tugs the shoe box closer to him and peers into the box with trepidation, like it doesn't just contain the pair of shoes he glimpsed, and instead holds a live boa constrictor or runny bird droppings or all of Nitori’s baby teeth rattling around with his umbilical cord stump. He pulls out a gorgeous matte black leather stiletto, with a slightly rounded toe and a heel easily as long as his index finger. “This is enormous, where did you find this?”

 

“The evidence locker for closed cases. It’s a European size 44, which should be good for you,” answers Sousuke, the tiniest sliver of doubt creeping into his expression. “Do you like them?”

 

Rin snaps his head up and growls. “It doesn’t matter if I like them! I can’t wear these out.” He feels moisture gathering in his eyes and warmth spreading across his cheeks. “People take pictures and I’m still swimming and so is Haru. We're on the _national team_ , I can't be seen out wearing heels. Oh gods, what will Haru say?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t think Haru will care. That’s all you.” Sousuke reaches into the shoe box to take hold of the other high heel. “I didn’t consider all that Rin. How about instead you have a date night in your flat, and you have to wear these for that.”

 

Rin pauses. He knows this is now doable and it’s only his own reticence he needs to push past. 

 

Sensing further hesitation, Sousuke resumes his attack mode. “I mean, I can always up the stakes since you haven’t accepted yet. I missed out on our second year when you wore that maid costume. I bet I could find-”

 

“Alright, alright! I’ll do it!” Rin worries at the back of his neck, glaring down at the shoe in his hand. He stands up, chair roughly shoved behind him which garners unwanted attention from other customers, and grabs its mate out of Sousuke’s grip. “I’m leaving now. I’ll send you photo proof if you need.”

 

Sousuke rumbles out a laugh and shakes his head. “I don’t need that. Haru’ll keep you honest.”

 

Rin scoffs and storms out of Blue Bottle, shaking his head and muttering to himself the whole walk to the train station.

 

**

 

“Haru!” Rin slams the door open and stalks into their flat, kicking off his regular, normal, perfectly ordinary footwear and tossing his hoodie haphazardly onto the hook. He moves to their bedroom and flings the high heels inside before heading to the bathroom. His boyfriend is there, still bathing away the morning of chores, and Rin wants nothing more than to quickly rinse off his humiliation and join him in the tub for the remainder of the day.

 

Haru makes eye contact and furrows his brows in concern. “Is it really bad?”

 

Rin sinks to his knees next to the tub and submerges his hand to locate one of Haru’s. “It’s fine. We’re having date night tonight, by the way.”

 

Blue eyes open wide, though there is some worry hidden under the surprise. Rin knows Haru is quite attuned to his attitude shifts and realizes he needs to tone town his anxiety or it will just make both of them miserable. “Where are we going?”

 

Rin heaves a steadying breath and paints a small smile on his face. This is Haru, it’s their home, he’ll be damned if he’s going to feel uncomfortable in his sanctuary. Fuck Sousuke and his stupid ideas. He’ll make this work, no _he’ll own this_ , like the champion that he is. And Haru. Sousuke’s probably right, his quirky but amazing partner will probably think Rin in heels is quite the vision; this will for sure be a sight Haru’s never seen before. He’ll turn this into a moment for Haru, for them. “We’re not going anywhere. I’m going to cook for us and light candles and maybe I’ll even put on music and we’ll do some slow dancing, if you’re game. What do you think?”

 

Haru face has skeptical written all over it, but this is by no means the first random, hare-brained, last minute activity he’s agreed to on Rin’s behalf. “Sounds fine. I can cook, you don’t have to do everything.”

 

“Nope! I’ve got this Haru. I’m gonna go to the store and get what I need for a mackerel recipe I’ve been wanting to try to make for you.” Rin lets go of Haru’s hand, rubs it dry on his pants, and races out of the bathroom. “I’ll be back!

 

**

 

Rin stands in front of his closet, taking advantage of Haru painting in the spare bedroom, his makeshift studio, and debates what to wear for tonight. He’s all in, and is going to wear those damn heels even while he’s cooking. He peeks inside the shopping bag he smuggled in with the groceries. He whips out the garment he selected and gives it a once-over. Now that it’s here in the harsh light of his home, he second guesses his impulsive decision to up the stakes for himself. This apron is gorgeous, it’s practically a piece of artwork, he isn’t even sure he should be cooking in it. Haru’s utilitarian apron would work just fine, but Rin is nothing if not obstinate and reckless when committed to a goal, so he just hopes he doesn’t get any stains on the fabric. 

 

Rin holds up the apron against his wardrobe, it matches most things since he is frequently drawn to the same color palette. It is black with large white swirling flowers and a sweetheart neckline trimmed in bright crimson. The bottom flares out with a slight ruffle and more trim. There are long ties at the neck and waist, flowing out from an eye-catching and cinching red waistband designed to highlight a woman’s natural curves. He chooses a tight-fitting black tank top and hesitates on his bottoms. Sharp teeth nibble on his bottom lip when an idea occurs to him, in fact, it lodges itself into the forefront of Rin’s mind and makes itself at home like it belongs there. He marches over to his underwear drawer and pulls out a pair of pitch black boxer briefs. He quickly shucks his clothes and dons the new ensemble, tying the apron loosely around his middle. He grabs the black stilettos and moves in front of the full-length mirror. 

 

Not half-bad. Rin braces a hand against the wall and lifts up one foot to slide a heel on, then repeats the motion with the other shoe. He closes his eyes and swallows past the knot in his throat, before opening them and gazing at his date outfit for the evening. He turns and peers over his shoulder. His ass and thighs do look fucking phenomenal and for the first time he allows himself to consider that this could be worse. Steeling his nerves, he abandons the safety of the bedroom.

 

Rin is about halfway finished with dinner preparations, and is in the middle of crushing garlic and paprika with the mortar and pestle, when he hears Haru enter the kitchen behind him. How he’s dressed suddenly snaps back into his consciousness like a freight train barreling right for him, although there are no further sounds in the room beyond his own heavy breathing. His neck burns, his face is on fire, he tenses his shoulders and drops the pestle with a clang. He grabs the edge of the countertop, knuckles white, palms damp; his heartbeat thunders through him and he wonders if he is even capable of hearing anything anymore outside of his own head. He turns his head to peek over his shoulder. Haru isn’t in the room with him.

 

Rin releases his death grip on the counter and spins completely, skirt of the apron twirling a half-second after the rest of him, calf muscles flexing from the unfamiliar position they are forced into. Sweat trickles slowly down his back, Rin feels it at the base of his spine, tank top sticking to his overheated skin. He is still alone in the kitchen. He forces himself to gulp in a deep breath and relax, even if he _isn't_ alone, it’s just Haru. Nanase Haruka, who doesn’t judge anybody, and accepts everyone exactly as they are, quirks, flaws, neuroses and all, especially Rin, who has all three of those things in abundance. 

 

Pulse slowing back down, approaching the neighborhood of a healthy resting heart rate, Rin returns to food preparation, ignoring the slight trembling in his thighs from balancing all his weight on the balls of his feet for so long. He sees the water is boiling for the potatoes. He tosses in a pinch of salt, shrugs and tosses in another one, then starts carefully dropping the rinsed root vegetables into the bubbling water. Rin punches the buttons for the timer, fifteen minutes for the perfect consistency to mash, and turns towards to the cutting board. 

 

Rin picks up the knife with deft fingers and promptly drops it with a clatter when he feels hands graze across his sides, over the apron, to pull him gently into a soft embrace. Haru’s lips are at the back of his neck, nuzzling underneath damp hair to get to skin. Rin lowers his head to allow easy access, a conditioned response, and rolls his head to one shoulder in silent encouragement. Haru takes the hint and licks a path towards Rin’s ear, where he bites gently at an earlobe. 

 

“Haru,” gasps Rin. “I’m cooking.”

 

“I don’t care,” mumbles Haru, still completely focused on the skin that he’s now tugged into his mouth to suck on. He releases the lobe to whisper in Rin’s ear. “You look delicious.”

 

Rin pants like a virgin who’s never been touched, heat already pooling low in his belly, He reaches behind him to hold Haru’s head exactly where it is now, working on his neck like it’s his job. He runs fingers through soft, black hair, tousling it further than it’s normal wind-swept state, and can’t help the low groan that escapes him. 

 

Haru murmurs words into Rin’s shoulder, hands roving languidly from Rin’s stomach down to his hips where he holds them in a firm grip, slender fingers seeking out slivers of skin to tease. “Can I see what you look like from the front?”

 

Rin manages to utter a word that must sound like agreement because Haru uses the hold on Rin's hips to spin him around until his lower back digs into the edge of the countertop. Rin’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head tipped towards the floor, even though he knows Haru likes what he sees. 

 

Haru places a finger delicately but insistently under his chin and urges his face back up. “Open your eyes, Rin. Please.”

 

Worrying his bottom lip, arms hanging uselessly at his sides, Rin lifts his head and wills his eyes open, to accept whatever assessment Haru holds. Blue eyes are drinking him in like Haru is a parched traveler in the desert and Rin is his oasis. Haru’s small tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, and a flush sits high on his cheeks as his gaze roams unabashedly along the expanse of smooth muscular legs perched in black high heels. Rin can’t help but glance down to see just how affected his boyfriend is at his appearance and what Rin sees makes him forget how to breathe. 

 

In front of Rin stands his beautiful boyfriend, in a ruffled pink apron and royal blue pumps, and what appears to be nothing else. “Haru!” He reaches forward to clutch at Haru’s waist, he has to hold onto something. “Where did you...? How? Why do you have high heels?”

 

Haru looks as unperturbed as usual, just continues to goggle at Rin with wonder and awe, like he wants to eat him for dinner instead of garlic and paprika roasted mackerel with fingerling mashed potatoes.

 

“Haru, the _shoes_ ,” blurts out Rin, needing an answer to this mystifying turn of events on this already bizarre evening.

 

“Nagisa got them for me when he visited Tokyo once during college, as a thank you for letting him stay with me.” Haru delivers this nugget of information like it is totally reasonable to gift a weekend host and former teammate, a very male host and teammate, with a pair of blue velvet stilettos. 

 

Rin blinks stupidly at Haru. “And the apron?”

 

“Oh.” Haru verbally shrugs. “A woman was selling hand sewn aprons at a stand at the market once. I thought it was pretty.”

 

“It’s pink,” states Rin, lord of the obvious. 

 

Haru looks down and lifts the hem, as if seeing the cloth for the first time. Rin now notices that Haru is also wearing his boxers underneath, unfortunately not completely nude under the frilly apron. “It reminded me of you.”

 

“Of me?” Rin is incapable of higher thought at the moment, barely able to string more than two syllables together. He feels his brain getting fuzzier the longer this moment drags on. 

 

“Every time I give you a blow job, your thighs and chest turn this exact shade of pink. Your face turns a darker shade of pink but she didn’t have an apron in the right tone.” Rin doesn’t think his eyes can open any wider, he senses his eyelids straining. Haru is still staring at Rin’s legs, as he traces his fingers along the hem of boxer briefs clinging to a thick, sculpted thigh. Rin’s heart jackhammers as those fingers move further up his leg to scorch a trail along his skin, hand disappearing below the fabric of Rin’s underwear as he explores.

 

“What made you put this on tonight? We don’t, ahhhh, have to match?” Rin’s eyes flutter shut as his breathing stutters, he is holding Haru’s waist so tightly he’s afraid he’ll leave bruises. He lightens his grip a little and starts to run his hands up Haru’s sides, thumbs seeking out sensitive nipples to brush against, which he finds, and coaxes a quiet moan out of his partner.

 

Haru tears his gaze from Rin’s lower half to make eye contact, while reaching around to grab and knead two handfuls of his ass. “I’m guessing this outfit is the result of your bet with Sousuke. When I walked into the kitchen earlier, I could tell you heard me, and everything about you screamed that you’re embarrassed to be seen like this. I figured I’d join you since I don’t mind, and that way you wouldn’t be alone.” Haru’s hands leave Rin’s ass long enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and yank down, crouching to help Rin step out of them, careful to stretch them gently over his heeled feet. 

 

The timer for the potatoes goes off just as Haru is standing back up. He makes a move for the stove, stopping only to slip his hand under the black and white skirt of Rin’s apron, the whisper of a touch on straining, overheated flesh drawing out a shallow gasp. “Don’t move.” Rin hears the water being drained out of the pot and the pot being placed back on the stove, then Haru comes back into sight carrying the cutting board full of scallions and the mortar and pestle with ground spices. He places them off to the side and comes back in front of Rin, who he starts nudging backwards through the narrow kitchen until Rin can’t go any further. Haru presses forward and suddenly Rin is hoisted up and set down on the newly cleared counter.

 

Haru runs his hands reverently up Rin’s thighs. “I’ll make you feel good, Rin.” All coherent thought leaves Rin’s brain while his boyfriend pleasures him with his mouth and his hands and his overwhelmingly breathtaking Haru-ness. Just as he’s coming back to himself, and desperately wants his turn to reduce Haru to a puddle, smug blue eyes and a small smile are right in front of his face.

 

“Now you match my apron.” 

 

**

 

A few hours and orgasms later, after Rin is finally able to finish cooking dinner and they clean up both the kitchen and themselves, they lounge together on the couch. They are draped all over each other, aprons wrinkled and defiled, three heels between them, as Rin has no idea where the fourth shoe is currently located. Haru wiggles beneath him and rolls out from under his arm. 

 

Rin thrusts out his hand blindly to grab at the departing body. “Hey, where you going?”

 

Haru snorts. “I’m coming right back. Don’t move.”

 

“You keep telling me that, ordering me around,” grumbles Rin with mock-indignation. “I’m not your puppy.” He sits up on the couch and smooths down the apron, trying to ignore the crusty spots his hands find on the fabric. He grimaces and wonders where his boxer briefs ended up, as he thumps his head down on the back of the couch. 

 

Haru calls out from the spare room. “Close your eyes Rin. Can I trust you or do you need a blindfold?” 

 

“Hey!” Rin hollers back. “I’ll keep them shut if you ask me to, I’m not a toddler.” He pulls his shoulders back, straightens his apron, and spies the missing black stiletto under the kotatsu. He shoves it on his foot and slams his eyes shut just as he hears Haru clicking into the room. He walks so elegantly in the heels, Rin puzzles over how much time he’s spent in them since receiving them, and why Rin hasn’t been present for any of the practice sessions. Haru looks damn fine in heels. 

 

Rin listens for the clues that float around him. He hears something like glassware being placed on the low table, he hears the flick of a lighter a few times, and a quick sniff makes him think of candles. Haru clearly moves into the kitchen and Rin notices the telltale noises of tea service being prepared, heating water, rattling tea strainers, clinking teacups. Haru moves back into the living room, and sets the tray on the low table, then Rin hears nothing. He leans forward, trying to catch any sound he recognizes, instead Haru’s warm hands clasp his and tug him forward. 

 

“Open your eyes, Rin.” Haru is sitting in seiza on the floor and Rin automatically mirrors him, still holding hands and about to indulge in evening tea, naked, save ruffled aprons and high heels. This is a new experience for Rin, and thinking about it too hard makes him break out in uncontrollable giggles. Haru blinks at him a few times, but is always susceptible to laughter when he hears Rin’s ridiculous guffaws. Pretty soon, they have let go of each other in favor of holding their sides, tears leaking out of Rin’s eyes before he finally starts to gain back some semblance of control. He swipes away his tears and catches his breath, mostly composed before reaching again for his partner’s hands. 

 

“Sorry Haru, this is a first for me. I mean, what are we doing here?” Rin means it as a joke, but feels such an overwhelming wave of adoration wash over him, he squares his shoulders so it doesn’t knock him over. He tightens his grasp on Haru’s hands, all traces of mirth gone from Haru’s face, and he doesn’t have any urge to laugh anymore. 

 

“Rin.” Haru shifts from his kneeling position to being on only one knee. 

 

“Oh H-Haru,” stammers Rin, knowing exactly what is about to happen. He’s wanted to create this moment for so long, but nothing ever felt quite right. He never wanted anything too storybook, too fairytale, too predictable. He just wanted a split second that felt exactly right and exactly like them. 

 

“Rin,” begins Haru again, probably making sure the other is focused and present. Rin is more than present; he is completely committed, to Haru, to them, to this moment that is about to unfold. “You know I’m not one for fancy speeches. So I’m not going to try to do anything here that doesn’t make sense. It’s always been you, Rin. I think somewhere, deep inside, I knew it all along. I think you have too.”

 

Rin watches Haru, so calm, so collected, so sure of his words. He feels nothing but love and affection for the man kneeling in front of him, in his fellatio blush apron and velvety blue pumps. Haru pulls something out of the pink pocket and lifts up Rin’s little finger. He starts to tie a thin red string around the base of the finger, fashions a tidy little bow, and then holds out his little finger and the thread. Rin lifts his shaking hands to clutch one of Haru's, and makes a slightly messier but equally meaningful bow.

 

“Obviously we can’t wear these exactly like this for very long,” starts Haru, staring into Rin’s eyes, turning him inside out. He’s always seen _all of Rin_.

 

Rin can’t help himself despite the import of what is unfurling between them. “Think how hard relay exchanges would be if we’re tied together with string.”

 

Haru softly smiles before continuing. “But we _are_ tied together, even without this physically binding us. We’re supposed to be side by side, and I think life has led us here to this moment, and I want to spend the rest of my moments with you.”

 

“I want to be with you for all our moments too,” breathes out Rin. For once he isn’t crying, there is no reason for tears. No matter how ridiculous its origins, and how difficult this story will be to censor for his mother, Rin is filled with contentment and love. This is exactly how life should be, right now, right at this point in time. He raises his hand, and with it comes Haru’s and the red string tethering them together. He moves their hands to Haru’s chest and shifts closer, so their hands are nestled snugly and safely between their hearts. "Please marry me, Haru."

 

" _Yes_ , Rin.”

 

**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dies*
> 
> The playlist Rin listened to is the collaboration album by Linkin Park and Jay-Z called [Collision Course](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7dS3smPCxmKKg1dw5s3Cb2ZxHIUNTp9p). Give it a listen here, it's so good, and I am convinced Rin and Ssk workout to this together. (Talk to [me](https://rin202haru630.tumblr.com/) about music hc for any of the boys, I have lots of ideas!)
> 
> Here's Rin's apron   
> Rin’s black high heels   
> Haru's blush apron   
> Haru's blue suede heels 


End file.
